


Fear and Loathing

by prismica



Category: Sennen Meikyuu no Nana Ouji
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prismica/pseuds/prismica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment missed in light of everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear and Loathing

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Act 11 while Messiah, August, Laurence and Ewan are away from the rest.

A certain, unfamiliar stillness settled over the labyrinth as Zan redressed, a kind of silence that always seemed to have a storm lingering close by. He never really understood it himself—this ability to find meaning in sounds that others ordinarily did not—but he took it as a blessing, as it often him warned him of things that others just did not _see_.

As he finished the last of his buttoning, Zan listened intently for any nearby sounds or footsteps before running his hand along the door and pushing on the doorknob, stepping into the room where Titus and Gideon lied in rest. The others were elsewhere, he knew, and perhaps he should have been worried. But he had faith in Laurence’s abilities and intentions. Ewan would be safe with him.

Shutting the door behind him, he noticed that Titus’s breath was long and steady, implying he still slept, but Gideon’s hitched as he entered.

 _Gideon_ …

The thought of the man had still left an uneasy feeling in his gut, a feeling that was not quite the seething anger he expected to feel. Zan certainly felt ire on behalf of the child Gideon had betrayed.

_And yet…_

Zan frowned. Perhaps he felt more fear than he did anger. Fear for losing a good man who sought to protect the destitute, the oppressed, and the hurt. Fear for losing an innocent child to the shadow of a man who feared for the safety of the people he’d sworn to protect—

—people that included who Zan used to be.

It was conflicting, and Zan was unsure of how to act or feel. But for now, he worried—worried _far_ too much—and he would at least see to it that Gideon remained alive and well.

Zan walked towards the shelf by the hearth, reaching blindly for a clean cloth August had set out earlier and dipping it into the bowl of clean water next to it. The water was lukewarm, the singer noted as he rung out the excess. Gideon wouldn’t find it too unpleasant, he hoped. With practiced ease, he folded the towel into an even square and sat himself next to the injured redhead, placing a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder.

“May I…?” It was a quiet question, hardly more than a whisper, but Gideon heard it all the same.

“If you’d like.” His response was strained, no matter how cordial Gideon made it sound. Gideon was hurting more than he let on, Zan realized, but nothing would come of him calling it out.

Carefully, felt for the ripped edges of the shirt and pulled them aside, giving more space for him to clean up the blood that had begun to dry. Setting his free hand against Gideon’s side, Zan began gingerly dabbing at his chest with the other, listening for any sounds of pain or discontent from his touch. It was a slow process, with the singer’s cautious execution of every stroke, but it became a soothing, steady rhythm, and neither seemed to notice how long it took.

Zan considered talking to Gideon. Questioning his motives, scolding his foolishness, reprimanding the hypocrisy of his statement of leaving no one behind—he thought of saying it all, in an emotional attempt to find that same trust again in the man he thought would protect Ewan. But the loud, nearing chatter of their remaining group members told him they would not be alone for long, and that trouble would come with their noise.

Zan could always be mad later.


End file.
